


rush hour crush

by orphan_account



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5734630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘sorry i used your head as an armrest’</p>
            </blockquote>





	rush hour crush

Levy covered her mouth to stifle her small yawn as she allowed the crowd on the busy platform to jostle her into her carriage. There were exactly three empty seats and she rose an eyebrow as she watched four people dive for the same one, while the two others quietly slipped into the remaining two. As the voice announced on the overhead system that they were ready to depart and ‘mind the closing doors’ she settled herself against one of the walls of the tube carriage and began counting how many stops she had to go.

She’d long since resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to _ever_ get a seat on the tube when she travelled during rush hour and it amused her that the rest of her fellow commuters hadn’t seemed to realise the same thing yet. Every day she would watch as a mini fight broke out over one of the few empty seats that were available when the tube pulled into her station. She, on the hand, would simply walk onto the carriage and slide up against the wall, packing herself in as tightly as possible as the rest of her fellow passengers packed themselves onto the train like sardines. 

Sure, it wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, but over the last few years she’d perfected her stance so she could stand and read, or sometimes write, and barely feel the jolting of the train. Because of this, her morning journeys into the city had actually become pretty enjoyable.

The train jerked forwards and she sighed lightly as she expertly dodged the falling body of a woman who didn’t think she had to hold on when the train was moving. 

_Rookie_ , Levy chuckled under her breath. It had taken her around five months before she was able to ride the tube without having to clutch on to the poles or handlebars. Humming quietly to herself, she fished around in her bag and pulled out the newspaper she’d grabbed on the way in. 

As she flicked through the pages the automated voice crackled out through the overhead system announcing their arrival and the next station, and she ticked off one location on the tube map in her mind. _Fourteen stops left._

It _was_ a little annoying living so far out from the city, but she’d come to enjoy her tube journeys. They gave her time to clear her mind and wake up properly so her colleagues didn’t have to deal with grumpy ‘Just Woke Up Levy’ and she liked to secretly imagine that standing up for the whole twenty minute journey burned a lot more calories than it actually did. 

The train ground to a halt again and she instinctively sucked her chest in, barely lifting her head from her paper, as the doors open and several people brushed past her to file out, only to be replaced by twice the number who hurried to squash themselves on. The doors closed and she ticked off another station on her mental tube map. _Thirteen stops left_.

The train jostled forwards and she turned a page, eyes lighting up just a little as she reached her favourite section of the newspaper: the _Rush Hour Crush_ column. She’d been reading the paper for years and the odd little column never failed to bring a smile to her face. Her lips quirked upwards as she read the first entry: 

“To the tall, thin guy with the incredible beard on the Northern line: I have a small comb, let’s groom each other. _Bearded Brother, London_.”

A small snort laughter escaped her lips as she read the ‘Bearded Brother’s’ message. When she’d first picked up the paper all those years ago she’d mistakenly though the the bizarre entries in the Rush Hour Crush column were a one-off occurrence, but _no_. Every week the anonymous message commuters left each other got weirder and weirder. 

Her eyes scanned the page, landing on another entry:

“To the bespectacled guy who always sits opposite me on the morning Overground train to Euston: I love your black Barbour jacket with the limited-edition red lining. I want to see more of what’s inside. _Bespectacled Barbour Babe_.”

_Jesus Christ_ , Levy thought, trying to smother her laughter with the back of her hand. What was _wrong_ with people? 

Wondering just how weird her fellow commuters could get, she let her gaze drift to the final entry in the column:

“To the stunner in glasses on the 8.14 train to London Bridge: I thought I’d blown my chances when I farted in front of you, but you just laughed! You truly are the wind beneath my wings. Be mine? _Flatulent Guy In A Tank Top_.” 

OK, that was _it_ , she thought to herself, still struggling to keep her laughter contained, there was just _no_ way the entries were real. She refused, utterly _refused_ , to believe her fellow commuters were that corny and _strange_. The entries had to be something some young intern made up every night before leaving the office to fill up some space in the paper. And besides, even if they _were_ real, did people really expect to get a response from their crush after leaving a weird ad in the paper? 

Still chuckling at the absurdity of it all, she barely even noticed when the train shuddered to a halt outside a new station. She’d lost track of time reading the paper and now they several stops along the line, meaning she only had about six left. Smiling a little, she sucked in a breath and pushed herself against the wall as the doors pinged open and a flood of people hurried out. After a few seconds, a new group pushed themselves on, the doors shut themselves, and the train was off, zooming down the darkened tunnel. 

She tried to get back into her paper but, if she was honest with herself, it was all a bit boring after the Rush Hour Crush section. Sighing, she folded it back up and stuffed it in her bag before deciding to embark on her second favourite hobby whilst on the tube: _People Watching_. 

She was always amazed by the different kinds of people she saw every day travelling into the city. Her eyes scanned the carriage, waiting for someone to catch her eye, but everyone appeared to be to engrossed in their own business (either reading a book or flicking through their phone) to provide any entertainment for her. Feeling a little disappointed, she leant her head against the wall and closed her eyes, deciding she’d try and get a little rest in during the last five minutes of her journey.

That was when she felt it. 

Someone was _touching_ her. 

Her eyes flew opened, her lips curling into an angry snarl as she prepared to chew out the _asshole_ who had just decided to use her _head_ as a _fricking_ armrest. But her insult died on her lips almost as soon as she caught sight of the person. 

He was stood right next to her and she wondered how she hadn’t noticed him when he first got on the train. After all he _was_ leaning on her _head_. He was flicking through his phone with his free hand so she figured he hadn’t even realised where his other one off, and she didn’t really have the heart to tell him to move it. Besides, if he did, he might get embarrassed and shuffle off to another end of the carriage and then she’d lose her chance to shamelessly ogle him. 

He was _tall_ , so tall she had to properly crane her head upwards to get a good look at him, dressed in light grey sweatpants and a dark hoodie with a weird cat logo on the front. He had a gym bag wedged between his legs on the floor and, judging by the muscles that flexed ever so subtly when the tube jostled them slightly, he was a regular member. 

His angular face was framed by long black hair that tumbled well past his shoulder and from underneath the mane she could make a several bright glints of silver dotted along his browline and even a few along his ears.

In short, he was _hot_. 

She smiled a little as she watched him chuckle at something on his phone. He had a nice laugh, it was a little high pitched (and strange) but it lit up his face entirely. 

The train hurtled forwards and, before she knew it, her station was approaching. She was a little sad really. The man had barely looked up from his phone during their journey and hadn’t seemed to realise where he’d been resting his arm. Sighing, she reluctantly pulled away from him, noting the way he glanced up when his arm suddenly fell slack towards the floor. 

The train ground to a halt and the doors opened. Smiling brightly, she turned to him and winked, taking note of the way his mouth had dropped open in horror as he realised what he’d been doing.

“Hope your arm feels rested!” she laughed, giving him one last wave before she hopped off the train and made her way down the platform.

 

* * *

 

She yawned as she leant against her usual spot in the carriage, making herself as small as possible to allow her fellow commuters to chance to squeeze on. Once the doors were closed she dove into her bag and retrieved her copy of the paper, hoping that reading through the days news would wake her up a little.

She flicked through the paper, hoping something would catch her eye until she landed on her favourite section: Rush Hour Crush. 

Her spirits lifted just a little as she prepared to find out just how strange her fellow commuters could get.

“To the gorgeous redhead in a flowery top on the Liverpool Street to Southend Victoria train: You’re the only person I’ve seen vomit on to a train floor with such grace. Perhaps I can take you for a McDonald’s you’ll be able to keep down next time? _Roger Federer Lookalike”_

Answer: _Very strange._

Rolling her eyes, she glanced towards the next entry on the page and felt her heart skip a beat or two.

“To the small woman I used as an armrest yesterday: As first impressions go, that was the worst, but thanks for being so cool about it. Let me make it up to you? _Tall Idiot who can’t tell the difference between an armrest and someone’s head.”_

She didn’t bother to hide her snort of laughter as she read (and reread) the message intended for her. 

_Well,_ she thought to herself, her lips curling upwards in happiness, at least _now_ she knew the messages in the paper were real. 

The train ground to a halt and her gaze immediately flickered towards the door, heart racing ever so slightly as she watched the group of people march on. _He_ was there, looking suitably sheepish as his gaze caught her own.

They stood there for a few seconds, both staring at each other awkwardly before Levy smiled brightly and stuck out her hand. 

“Hi, _Tall Idiot who can’t tell the difference between an armrest and someone’s head_.”

He laughed at that, looking visibly relaxed when it became apparent she wasn’t mad at him, “the name’s Gajeel.”

“Gajeel,” she repeated, liking the way his name sounded on her tongue, “I’m Levy. Now,” she raised an eyebrow at him, “I believe you mentioned something about making it up to me?”

**Author's Note:**

> yes all the rush hour crush entries i used (minus gajeel’s) were actually entries that have actually been published in the paper like real people sent those in, honestly lmao.


End file.
